Double-edged Sword
by Penrose Quinn
Summary: She was like a double-edged sword, constantly battling on two sides of herself―a friend and a traitor. [on Hiatus]
1. 1

_But I'm not the villain, despite what you're always preaching_

 _Call me a traitor, I'm just collecting your victims_

* * *

"You are going to **break** your **promise**. I understand. And I hold my hands over the ears of my heart, so that I will not **hate** you."

* * *

"You should have worn something better than _that_."

The mere sight of her frown disclosed her distaste. Albeit she was fully aware he would notice it or maybe be disheartened by it, she was utterly indifferent about the matter. The usual causticity of her tone made her criticism simple, blunt, and harsh, like a knife wound. No ounce of exaggeration in her tone or a dollop of sweetness in her words like the other smarmy servants. It was not like she had no inkling how to please - she could flatter a man if she wanted to - but she definitely had to _enlighten_ this one.

An addled expression creased his fair, epicene features. "I do not see anything wrong with it when I wore it before." His brown orbs, a nice shade so near to a fresh bark of sandalwood, inspected his robes curiously, finding the stain that she reckoned a sore to her eyes.

A sigh rolled off her lips. "Woman's intuition."

Perceptive and cunning as he was, Soo-Won still could not comprehend what she deemed so distasteful in his clothing and she had to hold back a sigh from his obliviousness. "What do you suppose I should wear then?" he suggested, offering a genial simper.

Her dark brows furrowed while her index finger tapped her chin. "Something more . . . masculine, perhaps?"

"Masculine?"

"If I may be so bold to say, those robes are making you appear more feminine than it should not." She may have accepted the fact that he preferred something simpler than the more extravagant clothes he stashed and hid within the confines of his wardrobe. Lilac robes were just . . . making him appeal more as a beautiful _woman_ with his feminine and delicate traits and whatnot. And the floral print was **not** helping either.

"Ah, I'll try to consider that," he simply humored her a polite smile— but not out of kindness _or_ forgiveness. "But before you judge my attire, you should also reconsider mulling over yours."

Raising a fine brow, she graced him a nonchalant glance. She tamped the caprice to sigh in front of him. He always had a particular penchant in contending back at her snarking, just as equally motivated as she when he would utter a few retorts of his own against her. Though his quip did little to irk her, that oh so innocent, patently insincere, wretched simper of his made her temper fester. He knew she loathed it, using this peeving maneuver as a means for retaliation from her previous remark.

He had known her that well for all those years after all. Though, she clearly knew him as well, even about the fact that he disliked the subject that centered about him appearing somewhat feminine. He may excuse her impertinence but most likely he did not wish to be criticized by someone who clearly roused more attention to herself in terms of clothing— which most claim that it made her appear like a scantily equipped soldier.

Yet her pride refused defeat and she was set to have the last word.

Her blue eyes calmly glared at him. "Well, Your Majesty, as much as I want to reconsider your _advice_ , my preferences in my attire is strictly my business," she reasoned primly. "In this case, I do not need to wear skirts because they would immobilize my actions in protecting you in grave situations and not all of us are willing to face those consequences because if I did not do my job well the price would be my head."

He blinked in response, but soon a light chuckle left his mouth while a pleased smile settled upon his ruddy lips. "Very well said," he admitted, mirth and awe riddling in his voice. "I was quite sure you were prepared to lose your temper at that moment."

Crossing her arms, she grinned contently at him in return. "It did take me a couple of years to grow accustomed to your quick-wittedness in wordplay, Your Majesty."

A soft, despondent sigh left his mouth as his head hung low, each movement still possessing that delicacy and grace. "I had told you before that you do not have to address me so formally, Iseul."

No matter how repetitive his chiding was about the matter, she always adamantly ebbed it. Nonetheless, he still persistently pursued to change her convictions. "Well, it would not be fit for an aide to address you that way."

"For an old friend's sake?"

" _Lord_ Soo-Won," Iseul drawled, opting - as usual - the more tolerable choice of calling her master. "Fair enough?"

The blond-haired juvenile gesticulated his disappointment with another sigh. "You should have at least been considerate."

"Speaking of considerations, you should look your best for later," she reminded, still endeavoring on changing his mind in wearing something much suitable . . . or something more masculine like Hak's. "Princess Yona would very much appreciate it."

A fond smile touched his mouth. "It had been quite awhile since we've all seen each other."

"Indeed," she nodded in agreement and a pleasant memory of warm days and wide grins and laughter surfaced in her mind. "You know, she's always been ecstatic meeting you,"

Ecstatic was an understatement. Princess Yona _anticipated_ for his return, and with every patient feat borne from her childish infatuation from her cousin she made it a mission to herself to be reckoned as the woman of his dreams for him and him alone. Though that small bit of information had been so apparent, it was also a depressing matter for Soo-Won appeared to remain _ignorant_ about it. "You should try to acknowledge her for her efforts," she counseled wisely. "Or at least honestly confront her about it."

And the best reaction she achieved was a convincing, perplexed look.

She sighed.

His eyes wandered as if his mind was wandering in his musings while his thumb cupped his chin. "I wonder if Hak is doing well." Another affable smile lit his face at the thought of his awed companion.

"Hak is Hak," was her clipped statement. "He's always fine. Most of the time, better."

All he could utter was, "I guess that is true."

His aide then cleared her throat as if something awfully grated her. Her brow even twitched. "Like I said, Princess Yona is—"

"Yona will turn sixteen soon, no?" he interrupted her supposedly helpful, enlightening advice as he dashed to his drawer with a bright, chirpy mien as brilliant as his winsome smile. "I've been meaning to ask your opinion on the gift I bought her."

It was clear enough that he was avoiding her counsel.

She deadpanned, "You're too aloof on the matter."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," she muttered under her breath. "What did you buy her?"

Her boots tapping and her braid swaying, she neared him with her arms crossed and a look of anticipation. He turned around to meet her gaze and present to her a case plated in ivory and silver though what honestly took her breath away was the exquisite gift within it once he proudly revealed it to her. "A hairpin," he said softly, a warm smile dancing on his lips. "I could not decide what to give her at first but luckily when I saw this all my mind had thought was that it matched her hair. Do you think she would like it?"

A hairpin with a rosy blossom crafted with great prowess and studded with magnificent, arresting gems. Simple yet sublime. It truly did fit her crimson locks and the very conception made her smile. "It's beautiful," was her remark, admitting to herself that he had taste for once. "I'm sure she will love it."

Closing the lid, he smile elatedly and replied, "Thank you for sharing your opinion, Iseul."

For a moment, her thoughts wandered to a certain crimson-haired princess and an insolent general— as well as her priggish brother and the many lovely people she had met there at the back of her mind. Kuuto, the realm of her tender memories— of her dear companions, subdued and spoiled with armistice. A luxury brought by a dream of a man who yearned for peace.

 _In the end, it was just a dream and nothing more._

Ah. She had almost forgotten. They would be departing to Hiryuu Castle soon. Clearing her throat to draw his attention, she uttered in a matter-of-fact tone, "Excuse me, but I should help the others with the preparations for your departure."

He simply nodded. "I understand."

"Thank you." Iseul gave a curt bow and proceeded to march her way out of his quarters though as she stood before the door, she halted in a brief second as if recalling something important and finally glanced back at him with a collected face. "Ah, and Lord Soo-Won, as your aide, I advise that you should consider to cease treating her like a child once you meet her again. She would appreciate that as well."

With that, she left.

As she strode down the corridor, it occurred to her that he had just eluded her prompt in frocking into a more satisfactory and suitable attire. She sighed miffily. That sly fox.

* * *

"It makes me look weird!"

"It is not true," Emperor Il assured, growing frustrated from his daughter's griping. "Right, Hak?"

"Yes, Emperor Il. Nobody has said that the Princess's hair is peculiar," were the solemn words of Hak, lowering his head and bowing before his master humbly. "But if I may be so bold to say, there is definitely something wrong with her head."

Yona barbed, "Shut up, **servant**."

The pair sparked another one of their volatile pothers, one of the many things that the people of Hiryuu Castle became accustomed of. Teacups, a potted plant, and any item the Princess deemed worthy of hurting her impudent attendant flung at his direction though her attempts were fruitless against his impressive reflexes that simply caught each object with ease.

Yona fumed.

Hak found their little wrangle amusing.

Emperor Il sighed.

"Well, I think her hair is a striking sight."

Everything went still at that moment.

Their broad, dumbstruck eyes landed upon an all too familiar woman in the room. Locks as dark as sable brushes which were usually pleated in a long braid. Those sharp blue eyes like arresting sapphires, wry and daunting. And of course, her unsuitable attire that did the worst duty making her appear more feminine.

They could not decide what flabbergasted them more. Her abrupt presence in the room or their obliviousness of how she went in here without them noticing in the first place.

"I-Iseul!"

Iseul bestowed a curt bow before the Emperor of Kouka and greeted respectfully, "It is always an honor to be in your presence, Emperor Il."

He blinked for a moment but soon placated it with an affable smile and a fatherly pat to her head, like he always did when she was once a chit. "Ah, you've grown," he remarked, taking note of her blossoming height. "It is pleasant meeting you again."

A welcoming smile curved her lips. "My regards to you as well."

Before he could utter a word to their conversation, Yona rushed towards her with unbridled excitement. "Iseul!" she said, almost in disbelief, through her beaming mouth. "I can't believe you're already here. Ah, that would mean he's—"

"Lord Soo-Won has arrived, Princess Yona."

"He's already _here_!" her eyes widened like perfectly rounded amethysts as they wandered frantically at her current appearance, inspecting the curls of her locks to the tips of her expensive shoes. "Ah, thank you!" echoed the ecstatic girl as she began to skitter out of the room, dragging her long, beautiful skirt with her hands and bumping into a few servants on her way to the hall.

"Soo-Won?" said an oblivious Emperor Il, who cupped his chin in addle. "Is that the reason why she is worried about her hair? He would not mind her hair. After all, he is her cousin."

"You don't understand women, do you?" Hak retorted flatly as he held a cup of steaming tea upon his hands, even after his shameless display of insolence which many would have feared to even commit in front of the most powerful man in Kouka.

"I second that." Agreed the amused maiden flippantly with a nod, following suit.

The elder man sputtered, rendered speechless from both of these juveniles' impudence, but collected his composure after clearing his throat and dismissing their behavior too mercifully. "Setting matters aside, how have you been, Iseul? It had been a few months since you've returned back here."

"There is truly nothing much to tell about me but I've been doing well, Emperor Il."

"Have you gotten in touch with your brother?"

"Ah, not yet," she replied, musing that he would most probably be too occupied in his work once again. "But I would meet him eventually."

"Very well," he smiled mirthfully. "General Joo-Doh anticipated for your safe return."

"Emperor Il, you're behind in paperwork." Reminded the lenient servant behind them, who held an ample amount of scrolls and files upon his hands.

"Ah, thank you for reminding me, Min-Soo," he gratified him with a kind beam and then cast his gaze back at her. "Let us converse later. If all of you would excuse me, I have a few matters to attend to." With that said, he finally began departing the room, expecting another day of plodding and content of the news of his nephew and his aide's secure arrival.

A pair of astonished, green eyes blinked upon recognizing the stranger. "Oh, Miss Iseul," he said, gracing her a congenial simper. "It is nice meeting you again."

Never losing her social graces, she replied in an equally amicable tone, "Likewise, Min-Soo."

Giving a nod of appreciation and bidding an adieu, he fled away as well, likely tailing behind the Emperor.

Then, a languid voice behind her nicked the silence between the left pair.

"You seem well, Dancing Tiger."

Her brow twitched in annoyance. "Don't call me that," she carped tersely and then sighed. Turning around to meet him, she granted him a grin, best coming from an old companion after meeting again for a long time. "Well, I should say the same."

Glancing down at those twin pools of cool azure, he said placidly, curiously, "How is he?"

 _Shouldn't you be meeting him for yourself by now?_ After all, the both of them shared a brotherly bond that could not be breached. Mocking a musing expression, she tapped her chin. "He still does not wear anything too masculine in particular and acts as much as an airhead as he pleases," was her frank opinion with a flippant shrug. As always, saucy and demeaning. "Nonetheless, he is fine."

Expecting her blunt remark, he simply simpered, both in amusement and relief. "That's good to hear."

"Assuming from that bickering earlier, you and the princess still don't fare well, hm?"

"As you can see, the princess isn't particularly fond of me."

"Nah, you're just saying that," she contradicted, permeating through the calm nonchalance from his comment. He did little to show it, but she was well aware enough that he still cared for her. "But it wouldn't be normal if the two of you didn't bicker at all."

Her intimidatingly tall companion shrugged. "Whatever you say, Dancing Tiger."

Frowning, she crossed her arms and fenced back, "I don't want to be called like that coming from someone like you, Thunder Beast."

A snicker tumbled from his lips. He finally smiled, lax but welcoming and sincere. Hak's smile. "It's nice to have you back."

Iseul could not help but beam back in return. "It's nice to be back."

At that moment, she wanted to believe that she truly did mean those words.

* * *

A soft knock pounded against the resplendent aperture of Soo-Won's chamber which was followed by a smooth slide of the door.

"Excuse me, Lord Soo-Won."

Sitting with a cup of tea upon his slender hands, he graced him a polite, disarming smile, a feature that Joo-Doh grew accustomed of through the years and one that he deemed irking for he knew it was a simper fit for a featherbrained fool than a dignified nobleman. "Ah, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, General Joo-Doh?"

Clearing his throat and composing himself, he entered inside and closed the door behind him. He bowed respectfully before him. "Pardon my interruption, but I came here to see how you are faring well after your arrival." It would have sounded heartwarming to hear such words coming from a cherished colleague if not for his austere, solemn voice that ruined it.

"I'm fine," he replied with an affable air around him. "Thank you for your concern."

Alongside the blond-haired juvenile was his aide, now striding before him in her strut. Her lips curled into genial smile while her blue orbs met his tawny ones. "Hello, brother."

As he gazed down at her, the dignified, sedate expression of his visage did not waver though his sharp eyes softened the moment it witnessed the amicable simper he had not seen for so long. "Iseul,"

"You're too stiff. I could see what General Geun-Tae taunts about you," she interrupted, her blunt tone cutting through the words he was about to utter. "Can't you at least grant me a smile after all those six months?"

His brows furrowed in miff, further endorsing her notion. "Do not mention that crude lout," he said snappily, peeved at the thought of his boorish rival. "I'm sorry if I haven't greeted you sooner, but I am relieved to know that you are doing well."

Phlegmatic as usual, like a general to a soldier. A simple greeting, a mild gesture, and that's it. Although he did not exactly grace her a smile, Iseul did not pry him further and simply brushed the matter off her mind. "It's fine," she assured in a light tone. "After all, being the Sky Tribe General must have been a difficult feat compared to handling _him_."

Crossing his arms, he rebuked, "Do not speak ill to Lord Soo-Won, Iseul."

"But it is the truth. Do you know how difficult it is to convince him in wearing something much better?" she rambled shamelessly― even in front of the very person she called her master. "He doesn't even clean up after reading his towers of books and yet he has few servants in his manor. You know nothing of the woes from my earnest travail, brother."

His head of dark blond locks lowered glumly, almost having that endearing, child-like effect. "Do I really cause you so much problems, Iseul?"

"Indeed," was her succinct, frank answer. "I don't come cheap, Lord Soo-Won. I request higher payment for my deeds and longer breaks."

A chirpy beam then lit his face. "If that is what you wish then so be it―"

Unfortunately, this little act of theirs did naught to amuse Joo-Doh but it simply aggravated his nerves.

Finally losing his patience, he reprimanded hotly, "Cease your shenanigans at once!"

The pair faltered their actions but the spleen in his voice did not daunt or deter them from committing the same juvenile banter once again in the future.

Endeavoring on mollifying the choler of the Sky Tribe General, he humored him an amiable smile― one the could uncannily appease the most unsettled discordances. "Please, do not be upset, General Joo-Doh," he said placidly. "You could join having a cup of tea with me if you wish."

On the other hand, his sister did no such thing as to placate him. "Your temper has gotten worse through the years after all," she remarked not for the sake of jesting him but out of scrutiny and a tad bit of concern. "How crass. Do not speak ill to Lord Soo-Won." She quoted his scold, chastising him this time out of retaliation.

Sighing to relieve his galled disposition, Joo-Doh sat next to him, acquiescing his invitation. "The both of you should cease acting like children." His glare then rested upon them coolly, a sense of alleviation present in it as well.

"I understand," was the good-humored reply of Soo-Won, who still kept his congenial simper intact. "We apologize for our actions."

"Maybe, you should have a cup of tea as well," Iseul graced a teacup before him on the table. "After all, you also wish to discuss an important matter to us, no?"

The moment she uttered those words, a gray, solemn mien misted in the room.

It was as if the lighthearted greeting and joshing dispersed in an instant.

Even Soo-Won's smile disappeared.

"The preparations are set."

* * *

A week had finally passed.

After the celebration of the sixteenth birthday of Princess Yona, the festivities had to conclude eventually.

The invited guests had already departed to the comfort of their chambers. The servants had accomplished their assigned tasks. The palace guards were stationed in their rightful coordinates.

Everything was settled. As planned.

As the night dawned, a tempest followed not too far behind.

A flash of lightning flared the dark, crestfallen sky while a rolling rumble of thunder trailed after.

Her blue orbs gazed pensively at the dour world behind the window, noticing the cloudburst grow awhirl, and then Iseul closed it softly with a mute sigh. Her hand brushed the hilt of her blade on her hip, her fingers dearly caressing the smooth, turquoise stone pendant tautly strung on its hilt.

"Do you have any regrets?"

Soo-Won firmly grasped the sword in his hand, raising it triumphantly as if he was a prominent conqueror riding in his steed and proclaiming another victory brought upon his hand from the olden times from the paintings and tapestries she once admired as a curious child. He held it as if it guaranteed salvation, but his face told a different tale.

It was the visage that bared itself from the luxury of light emotions. Cold, grave, and loathing. Yet, the most apparent trait she had seen was that it burned with pure, unregretful resolve. Determination to stain his hands with blood for the sake of the country, for his cause.

Glaring at her bleary reflection from the blade, he said swiftly, solemnly, "I do not."

Those beautiful eyes of his blazed like a passionate fire, fulgent and smoldering, with a shard of ice at the center.

Finally returning the blade back to its wooden sheath, he glanced back at his aide at the corner of his eyes, his lips in a thin line and his tone apathetic. "How about you, Iseul?"

She released a long, wistful sigh.

"I can't afford it," she responded as stoic and cold as his own tone as she bowed before him, a knee bent and a hand firmly placed to her chest. "Because I will follow you in whatever path you take, through fire or storm. I am the sword that will strike down your enemies and you are my king."

 _You sacrificed something for me and I will sacrifice something for you in return._

Another bolt of lightning crackled the grim night.

The gears of fate had finally begun to wind.

It was certain.

Blood would be shed soon.

* * *

 **EDITED 1/1/16**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Akatsuki no Yona and the lyrics is from "Monster" by Paramore.**


	2. 2

**Warning:** Character death, blood, and dark undertones

* * *

 _There's nothing that I'd take back_

 _But it's hard to say there's nothing I regret_

* * *

"The **freedom** to make my own **mistakes** was all I ever wanted."

* * *

The nippy gale caressed her cheek.

Iseul halted.

Her hand brushed the hilt of her blade.

A foreboding panged within her.

 _No, it can't be._

Shaking her head in negation, she straitened her back and placated her composure. Kye-Sook had already mapped this ploy of theirs that it would bear fruit without fail. Being a meticulous man, Soo-Won was not the type to overlook plausible miscalculations. Regardless of those facts, no one could afford hindrances at this point. Everyone anticipated for the cowardly emperor to die this grim night.

Her lithe fingers reached for the stone strung on her hilt and clasped it gently in her palm. Her blue eyes narrowed solemnly, wistfully. Her gaze wandered at the dour, dusky hazes that hooded the beauty of the night from the world.

 _Murdering Emperor Il, huh..._

She dragged a slow, deep breath through her mouth.

" _You've always been a good and smart child, Iseul. Your brother must be proud of you."_

Then she released a sigh, a puff of air forming from her lips.

His gentle fatherly figure and affectionate and clement nature were truly admirable attributes of his. His kindness was one of the things she liked about him― a golden virtue she learned from him. Something that managed to thaw the coldness in her heart through a prick of warmth.

Though, kindness was not a quality that could make a country flourish.

Her grasp on the stone grew tauter as if she was crushing it.

Her cerulean orbs sharpened with resolve.

No regrets.

This was her decision ever since she agreed to twine her path with that man.

Another foreboding twinged her gut.

 _Where is this coming from?_

Giving her head a light shake, she mollified whatever qualm that racked her mind and began to mull what situation her forebodings were warning her for. The servants, who were not part of this conspiracy, were likely resting at their quarters. The invited guests were sound asleep in their chambers, knowing most of them were lush from consuming liquor and jaded after engaging the festivities earlier. Their rooms were likely in a distant region from the Emperor's.

Well, that should be crossed out.

The only chambers that were permitted to be near the Emperor's quarters were his closest kin, which would be Princess Yona. According to the spies within the castle, she would not be awake at this hour and she did not visit her father often. It came very rarely. Not to mention, there should be guards stationed outside her room now.

There came one more possible threat to their plans.

 _Hak._

Of course.

He was the very heart of Hiryuu Castle.

The General of the Wind Tribe, Son Hak.

Shrewd, strong, and _dangerous_.

He should be the one that everyone should be wary and alarmed about.

Without wasting a second, Iseul began to scurry to the western region of the castle near the courtyard. He always guarded those coordinates probably because it was the nearest to the Emperor and the Princess's chambers.

Releasing the pendant from her clutches, her hand traveled to the hilt of her blade.

She disliked the thought of him interrupting their long-awaited ploy.

Although there would come a time for a mishap to happen...

She desperately _hoped_ to never raise her blade at her friend.

Not to Hak. Not to Yona. Not to _them_.

If she killed a person, she prayed that it would not be their blood on her sword.

* * *

And the gears of fate wound round and round, choices fueling them to weave another uncertain end.

The scarlet flames of revenge were finally sated.

And with it came an equal bargain.

A burden forever weighted on the backs of those who chose the darker, grittier path of vengeance and treachery.

"...S-Soo-Won?"

A pregnant silence crept.

Amethyst-like eyes trailed the spatter of blood on his pallid cheek to the thick, crimson stain on the gleaming metal of his sword.

Blood trickled from that sword.

Her father's _blood_.

 _Yona..._

* * *

A strong, calloused hand grappled its victim's collar relentlessly, hauling him up from the ground and pinning him against the concrete wall. His stormy blue eyes were riddling with dark ire and animosity at the squirming soldier― _impostor_ was a better word for it. Min-Soo's pleas and counsel in handling the impostor in a more strained and phlegmatic manner proved to be vain in his approach of seeking honest answers.

Strained and phlegmatic were definitely not Hak's best suit in interrogation.

Digging his fingers onto the collar, almost tearing it, he glowered hostilely at the quailing man. "What is your purpose here?" he questioned for the second time, his voice coarse and menacing.

On the other hand, Min-Soo cringed. Even if he was not placed in such plight with the General of the Wind Tribe, he could awfully sense the unmistakable spleen ripple from him like devouring, undulating waves. Truly, it was a frightening experience and he was not willing to get himself in such position any time soon.

"Hak!"

His green orbs landed at the owner of the voice. Relief pooled in his chest. "Miss Iseul!"

As Iseul neared them, she nodded at the genial servant to acknowledge his presence. Then, her brows raised in disbelief and addle. "What are you doing with one of the guards?" She regarded the fellow - _victim_ \- dangling above them through her companion's monstrous strength. Judging from the anxious lines on his face, his petty sobbing, and his sullied pants, he was just pitiful to look at and likely traumatized for the rest of his life.

"This is not a guard from here," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone while his glare was still nailed on him. "I don't recognize him."

Her jaws grew taut. Her mouth was dry. She swallowed the bulge in her throat.

"I'll ask you again," his voice was cold and spine-chilling as if he guaranteed death if he spouted a lie. "If you value your life, tell me your purpose here."

He sputtered nervously. "I-I don't know anything much, I swear! I was just ordered to pretend as a guard and watch over here!"

"By who?"

"I-I can't remember his name!"

"Tell me **who**."

"I-I don't remember! P-please believe me! He's here! An aristocrat, they say!"

"And the others? What do they know?"

"I don't know! I don't know! Please don't kill me!"

A miffed sigh left his lips. With a swift blow to his head, the impostor was unconscious and dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

Grunting in discontent, he clutched his spear and began to tread away in order to ferret for more answers.

A slender hand latched his arm which made Hak cease his movements.

Her sapphire eyes sought for his azure ones.

"It's too risky."

 _Don't go._

"I have to know what they're up to," he reasoned sedately, almost noble and determined. "The Emperor and the Princess' lives could be in danger."

She still pursued to change his mind. "There could be many of them."

 _They will kill you._

There was that aloof, unfazed expression in his visage with a heavy dose of arrogance and coolness present in it. "I can take care of it." Was his frank reply without a quiver of fear or a hitch in his voice. After all, he was not a man easily disposed of by anyone.

It was not like she disparaged him. Confessedly, she admired his skills and prowess in the battlefield and believed no bastard soldier from Soo-Won's gathered troops could par with his caliber. He was entitled the 'Thunder Beast of Kouka' for a reason. Though what he did not know was that she feared the thought that he _and_ Soo-Won would confront each other―

And slaughter each other till the other one falls.

This time, she released her grip on him. "But you don't know who you're up against."

 _It'll_ crush _you if you know._

He averted his gaze away from her. "I don't," he replied, vexation slightly mingling in his words due to his reply. "But it's assuring enough that I know you're on my side."

Those haunting words of his echoed though her mind.

It felt like arrows stabbing her back.

" _Will you be on my side, Iseul?"_

Iseul finally froze, her trembling hand tightly grasping the hilt of her blade.

The General of the Wind Tribe craned his neck at her direction and looked back at her. "Iseul?"

The sound of her name from his mouth was deaf upon her ears for she only heard the wild thumping of her heart.

He was gazing at her with that perceptive glint in his sharp eyes. Much to her dismay, he scrutinized her― read her thoroughly like a book. He may appear like some daunting, insolent man at first glance, but he had always possessed a subtle mind that could permeate through others' thoughts. Unfortunately, much like her. Through those devouring twin pools of blue, she sensed his muddle, concern, and no doubt, _incredulity_.

After all, he knew her as the outspoken, bold aide, never a tightlipped, trepid girl.

Steeling her nerves and screening a collected facade, she glared back at him to not worsen his skepticisms. "You go on first," was her firm response, never divulging the torn, confused being underneath her mask. "I'll follow you eventually."

With a nod, he replied, "All right."

As he strode, his back against her and his lethal spear glistening from the moonlight, she felt something within her stir.

It was an all too familiar sensation she confronted once before.

Fear.

Her darkest fears were starting to become a reality.

And she detested herself for not being able to stop the outcome in time.

She was fortunate enough that the fraud earlier was too clueless and frightened enough to not spill the truth. He did not even recognize her, but most probably he was naught more but an obedient fool under Kye-Sook's command. Out of luck, not well informed as well.

Though that did not mean that it could falter the anxiety that was welling up in her chest.

They were not supposed to be involved. They were not supposed to suspect or know anything. The plan was to simply dethrone Emperor Il, but it did not involve murdering them. That was the plan she accepted.

 _But now..._

The moment his figure vanished, she allowed to let her frustration surface, making her sink to her knees.

Min-Soo came to her side out of panic and worry. "Miss Iseul, are you all right?"

"Fine. I-I'm fine."

What a stupid lie.

"Has something happened to you, Miss Iseul?"

Silence.

Hesitantly, she muttered under her breath, "I will lose something important."

He sent her a perplexed look. "What do you mean?"

This time, she heaved a long sigh.

Her blue eyes gazed at the path her companion took, a hint of concern and determination spiraling within them.

She had to clear her mind no matter how frustrating her plight was.

She can't break now.

She had to **do** something.

"If you want everyone important to you escape out of this alive, you'll have to listen to my orders."

Whether this was a mistake or not, she would not let them die this night.

* * *

This Soo-Won was no longer the man he respected as his brother.

No longer the man he trusted with Yona.

No longer the man he called his _friend_.

Hak never knew who this person was.

But looking back at Yona on her knees who wept hopelessly, it was clear to him that he was naught more but an usurper. A murderer. A **traitor**.

And for that, he wanted to plunge his sword to his blasted heart. Watch him bleed and futilely catch his breath. Watch him drown in his mistakes, all sullied with his lies and stained by the blood of an innocent man. Watch him shatter to pieces just to have a taste of how he cruelly ripped their trust for him.

The bridge of their friendship was broken.

Done by _his_ hands.

And he saw it fester to the ground without a twitch of regret.

Bastard. Scoundrel. Traitor. Traitor. **Traitor**.

Pass all the anger, the hate, and the treachery, pass all the confusion and the silver-streaked intentions, the twisted fault in everything was that Hak, too, made a mistake.

The mistake to _trust_ this traitor.

And he loathed himself at the thought― at thought of risking the things he cherished the most be put in danger.

 _Emperor Il...Yona..._

Then he glared at him.

 _Soo-Won._

An arrow hit the pavement.

A perfect distraction.

An opportunity for escape.

One last chance for him to prevail from what he failed to do.

* * *

"It's only a matter of time before they find us."

Beneath the thick shrubbery, a pair of blue eyes warily observed the perimeter. Soldiers were marching forth in small groups and scouring about the area, likely hunting them down like a pack of savage animals. Hak released a curt sigh. His gaze settled upon Min-Soo and a bit belatedly to Yona, silent and broken, with a gentle touch of concern.

His mind formulated ways for their escape, but no matter what ingenious strategy he came up with, everything was too risky and cumbrous for her. He could not just execute the soldiers to clear a path for them to reach their exit. It would arouse unnecessary attention and thus it would conclude to a terrible conclusion.

Min-Soo hesitantly cleared his throat. "General Hak,"

Still too occupied in his musings, he managed to give a terse response. "What is it, Min-Soo?"

"There is a way for us to escape."

This time, his attention was effortlessly hauled by him. Although his lips were quelled, he looked at him as if he communicated through his eyes. The palace servant took note of how willing and desperate he was to listen to anything for the sake of protecting the Princess unscathed. He even spotted the smallest whits of his impatience and irritation, almost saying: 'why didn't you say anything earlier?'.

He breathed deeply and finally cast out a sigh. "But you must be calm about this," he stated phlegmatically, which awfully nonplussed him. He craned his neck behind him. "Miss Iseul."

A figure loomed from the shade, the sound of rustling trailing after it.

Her face was grave and held no speck of fear from the dark luster of bloodlust and virulence from the glower of the General of the Wind Tribe.

"I can offer you all my aid," she said, her sapphire orbs convincing and determined. "I've already set up a plan for all of you to escape to the gate that leads to the mountain pass. It'll be easier for you to leave since it would be difficult for the soldiers to search for you there."

"How are we supposed to know that we can _trust_ you?"

It was the first time Iseul felt his cold, murderous eyes on her, and as much as she felt unnerved from it, it also placated her.

She deserved to be scorched from the flames of his bile and hate.

Her resolute gaze evened with his truculent ones.

"Because I am your only way out."

Min-Soo clasped his shoulder in reassurance. "General Hak, we don't have much of a choice." He reasoned coolly, endeavoring to subside the tense friction between them. Though it was not his place to intervene in their business, it was better to cease the rising turmoil and to push it aside for the betterment of all for there were far more important matters to think about.

Hak was not foolish. He knew when to curb his skepticisms and disapprovals, especially in grave situations such as these. Though, it was a knotty feat to simply tamp his indignation and cynicalness to this person, who served under that traitor and who he also once deemed as a friend. He sought for answers― even if he had to wring her neck just to know she too was involved with his master's murder. But there was some truth in the palace servant's words so he abode along for Yona's sake.

He did not reply back.

She cleared her throat to rivet their attention. "I could ward off the soldiers until we've reached the rear gate since most of them recognize me as Soo-Won's aide," she stated. "But the moment we get there, you'll have to come out from my signal."

* * *

Just as she said, they managed to resist the soldiers' suspicious eyes. Thankfully, without stirring attention.

The only problem that they had to face now was the guards that warded their escape route.

As they hid behind the foundation of a building, her cerulean gaze locked with his alert, green orbs.

Iseul bobbed her head, signing the second part of her ploy.

Min-Soo finally spoke, "I'll lead them away. You use this opportunity to escape."

The moment Hak heard his words, he looked back at him with wide, baffled eyes.

"Min-Soo, you―"

His assuring tone swiftly lanced through his words. "I could clear a path for you to escape with Princess Yona." He then draped a flowery garb on top of his head.

His blue pools darted accusingly to the silent aide. "This is your plan?"

A sigh rolled off her lips. "He _is_ the signal. The moment he distracts them, you leave with Princess Yona."

He was about to contradict about the palace servant's safety but was not given a chance to say it when a reply interrupted him.

"Don't worry about me, General Hak," he cooed in a light, lulling tone. "This is for the best. The Princess's safety should come first."

For a moment, he was silent, but he soon graced him a nod of concession.

Then those weary, violet irises glanced at him in worry. "Min-Soo..."

A warm smile curved his lips, painfully quirking the corners of his mouth. "Please be safe, Princess Yona."

With that said, he ran.

The shrill yell of the soldiers boomed and it was soon tailed by the sound of treading, which would mean they pursued after him.

They took the bait.

"Now!"

Without a minute to spare, they hurtled towards the gate.

Hak lashed the left guards with a swift blow, killing them instantly with a slash of his spear.

Iseul opened the gate and carefully let Yona to enter first and then he followed behind.

It was time for her to halt.

"Iseul?"

She had no right to join them any further from the gate outside of the palace.

She would never have that right.

Her sapphire eyes gravely gazed at his midnight ones.

 _I will always be the traitor._

Silent and resolute, she turned her back behind them.

"Leave."

 _For your own sake._

Her route was a path of carnage.

This was her choice and she would never veer away from the road she opted to take in the beginning.

No matter how unforgivable her crime was or how the world shunned her because of it, Iseul did not regret anything. She did not regret conspiring against them. She did not regret betraying them. She did not regret that her master would murder the very person they hold dearest to their hearts.

Call her a monster.

A murderer.

A _traitor_.

Even to her precious friends.

But she chose this.

She was just as guilty as the man who stabbed the Emperor in his heart.

She did not seek for their forgiveness.

But.

If there was anything she regretted, it would be the fact that she wished that they did not get themselves involved― that they would get themselves executed and banished just because they knew of the hideous truth.

Finally, she paced away without speaking a word or even peering a final glimpse.

Iseul already understood at that moment.

They would never forgive her.

 _Farewell._

* * *

Yona craned her neck behind her.

Her glassy eyes gazed hollowly yet it searched for that important person that vanished swiftly like the wind.

"Princess, don't look back."

With one last glance of the proud gates of Hiryuu Castle— of her _home_ , she finally turned around and left.

This time, for good.

* * *

Blood gushed from him.

An arrow wounded his back.

Min-Soo fell to his knees, his face flat to the pavement.

" _They can escape but I can't guarantee you'll live right after this_ _―_ _"_

He dug his nails deep to the flesh of his palms, his knuckles growing lurid. Pain surged through his entire system. Heaving a deep sigh, he endeavored to rise through his shaking feet and pursued to run for their sake― and for his sake as well.

" _Though if you did live, you'll have to follow my instructions."_

As he paced around, trying his best to not lose his consciousness or lose his way to the directions she gave him, his mind drifted at the faint fragments of memories of everyone at the palace. The days were warm, everyone was full of mirth, and everything was peaceful. Then, an image of his family flashed― his younger siblings grinning from ear to ear and his frail, elderly mother smiling at him, tenderly telling him to come home soon.

It truly was a noble deed to die for the sake of letting the Princess escape her doomed fate.

But.

He had to survive after this, too.

He had to live for them.

Arrows fired at his direction.

The wild sound of treading tailed after him.

" _You have to meet me again once you get there."_

Luck was on his side.

Following her instructions, he went behind the said edifice, which was usually resided by the domestic servants, and there he spotted the sight of a figure hidden underneath the shadows.

His green orbs gleamed in blithe and relief.

He neared the familiar woman with haste.

"Miss Iseul―!"

Catching the sight of him, Iseul swiftly lunged at him and―

" _When you face me, you have to be prepared_ _―_ _"_

"This will hurt."

She thrusted a dagger on his lower torso.

A gasp left his mouth.

Blood dribbled to the ground.

Her cold eyes bore into his bewildered ones.

On cue, the soldiers witnessed her release the dagger while the servant held his wound and descended to the ground, his blood pooling underneath him.

"Y-you! That was the―"

"This isn't the Princess. Judging from what he did, he must have known the Princess was trying to escape," she stepped on his shoulder as if to confirm he was naught more but a silent corpse while her stoic eyes glared at them. "We can't afford nuisances. The Princess and General Hak could have already left the castle. You have to secure the palace gates. Better yet, search for them immediately outside of the castle. Quickly."

Though most of them disapproved the thought of following a mere aide's― no, a _woman's_ orders, the blaze in her eyes held unquestionable authority and daunt that even managed to muffle their accusations. Her suggestion and forewarning were beneficial and her words did speak the truth. For Soo-Won to ascend to the throne, nuisances had to be taken care of.

There was also the fact that they did not fancy the thought of going against their master's aide and General Joo-Doh's sister.

It was evident enough when they saw her kill the palace servant.

Bobbing their heads in acknowledgment, they considered her idea and began to stride away.

Few of them remained. "Excuse me, but we must dispose of the body."

"I'll do it," she said solemnly with a soft sigh. "I took his life. I'll take responsibility in burying him."

For a moment, they exchanged looks at each other but complied instead. Even though her actions managed to smite them with confusion and doubt, they would not mind letting a _willing_ person finish this morbid task. After all, it was much better than getting their hands dirty through tossing a carcass to a river.

Finally leaving, they left her alone.

Iseul peered at her surroundings to confirm her solitude and then crouched down at Min-Soo. Her hand touched his shoulder and felt a faint flinch. She could feel him breathe, almost unnoticeable if not inspected close enough. For that, she felt appeased. The place where she stabbed him was not a vital point, which she knew through thankfully gaining some bit of knowledge in self-defense from her brother, but it could never assure that it would cease his profuse bleeding. It was risky, but it was worth a shot. After all, it was better to play as a corpse than a hounded man.

She grasped his shoulder in assurance while he endeavored to move.

The only thing she had to worry about was to get him to the nearest healer without worsening his condition or being caught leaving through the separate servant's exit.

She whispered hoarsely, "Hang in there, Min-Soo."

At that moment, she made sure that he would not die as a hero but _live_ as one.

* * *

 **A/N: To be edited.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Akatsuki no Yona and the lyrics is from "Silhouettes" by Of Monsters and Men.**


	3. 3

_Oh I'm a guilty one_

 _And_ _I_ _know what I have done_

* * *

"In this world there are only **two tragedies**. One is not what getting what one **wants** and the other is **getting it**."

* * *

 _A string of salt trickled from her perspiring, ruddy face. Her knee was bent while her arms were limp like twigs. Curt, heavy pants of air puffed from her lips._

 _She loathed this feeling in her chest._

 _Defeat._

 _It did not come just once with this person, but it always came perpetually. Always._

 _To make matters worse, Iseul, still fourteen and chafed, was the only one who knew of his greatness in spite of it all._

He _was a_ prodigy _._

 _And who knows, maybe one day, an Emperor._

 _That alone made her sick to the core. She hated these bright children from nobility who did not have to constantly feel the blow of rejection and failure in their lives ever since their birth. It was unfair. She had to bear the slavery of being a girl with a man's genius inside her. She had to strive diligently and practice all day long till her hands were blistered and her body was bruised to its limits while this 'golden boy' took everything with ease, like taking a fresh breath of air._

It's unfair, all right!

 _She set expectations of him that he was no more but an arrogant, selfish brat with a rotten personality but instead she receives a delicate-looking boy who completely acts like some airheaded buffoon. Did he really think that she was_ that _stupid compared to his high intellect? Sure, she was not all that much, but she could spot a liar a mile a way without batting a lash. And he was a pretty decent actor too. She could see through his facade like looking through a shallow pond._

Smiling like some happy-go-lucky idiot, acting stupid and innocent all the time, looking at me with those pretty eyes of his, that no good little—!

 _Yet no one saw the light of his skill and his knowledge that could surpass any other person. It was always dimmed by the shadows of doubt and belittlement. And_ he _did not mind it all. Oh no, he did worse. He went along with it and played the dumb fool oh so perfectly well._

 _Gritting her teeth in vexation, Iseul lunged at him for one more time with her wooden sword raised, attempting to break his sword with one harsh blow._

" _Soo-Won!"_

 _Placid and conniving, he stood there waiting patiently. His wooden sword was placed precisely in front of her._

 _Ah._

 _And there she saw those brown eyes steel again. Those fervent, vicious eyes._

" _Hey, what are you two doing here?"_

 _The interruption made Soo-Won look back at the Wind Tribe boy and clumsily step on the hem of his clothing, making him trip and resist the swift strike of her sword. Sprawled on the wooden floor, he scratched his mess of blond locks sheepishly with a smile. "We were sparring, Hak," he laughed sheepishly which came after with a low 'ow' when he accidentally touched his scuffed chin. "Apparently, it seems I lost to Iseul."_

 _That was it?_

 _She won by default. Again._

 _She_ lost _._

 _He did that on purpose!_

I almost got him! I swear, I did! If only he only played fair! Damn it!

 _It did not aggravate her that she won, it was the fact that she lost in his own game._

 _Hak simply gave them a curved, inquisitive brow. He crouched down at him with a deadpan look. "Well, you wouldn't stand a chance against Dancing Tiger if you keep tripping like that." Typical Hak. Taunting people, as usual._

 _The blond boy laughed again. "I'll keep that in mind."_

" _Don't call me that, Thunder Beast."_

 _Then, she neared_ him _in miffed, stomping-like strides. With a tipped chin and a scowl, she pointed her finger at him. At this point, she cared little for the consequences to her actions. It no longer mattered if she was also seen as a hot-tempered, impudent person to everyone whenever she was disrespectful to_ him _,_ _the son of General Yu-Hon. After all, rumors were something she had grown accustomed of over time and they meant nothing to her._ _"Hell, I don't care if you're acting like some imbecile or not, but I want a rematch!"_

 _His head tilted with a addled expression in his epicene face, but his smile remained. "Eh? But you already won."_

 _Furrowing her brows (which was strangely almost identical to her brother's), she argued, "Damn you! You weren't fair!"_

 _Another confused look. A very convincing facade. "Fair? Where was I not fair?"_

 _She fumed, "Oh, stop acting like that!"_

" _Did I do something to upset you, Iseul?"_

Of course!

 _She wanted a rematch and she would get her rematch._

 _She was about to retort back when Hak interrupted her rudely. "Give it a rest, Dancing Tiger. You already won."_

 _Iseul snarked back, "I wasn't talking to you, Thunder Beast!"_

 _It was Soo-Won's turn to intervene, "Ah, we should cease this quarreling before someone hears us."_

" _You're avoiding my rematch!"_

 _As if her words were deaf upon his ears, he enthused, "Let's all go to Yona~ She must be waiting for us."_

 _In the end, he never did grant her a proper reply or an answer._

 _But no one saw it._

 _No one saw the raw, glorious power that burned intensely within those beautiful eyes of his._

 _No one saw it like she did._

 _And no matter how she hated to admit it, she awed the sight of it._

* * *

A plethora of queries, grizzles, and protests from the awfully quailed and muddled aristocrats bombarded General Joo-Doh. A little more prodding might further chafe the temper he tamped underneath his phlegmatic mask. However, he prepared himself for their confrontation, especially with this impactful news which was the revelation of the murder of the Emperor. The hearsay of General Hak kidnapping the Princess was naught more but adding more fuel to the flame of their distress.

It was to be expected, after all. He held a confident tip of his chin, his face professional of the matter at hand and his stature unquestioned and solemn, which was expected from a man of authority. His russet eyes flicked in a different direction, catching the sight of a familiar figure, dressed in hues of blue, black, and white, pass by the corridors like a shadow. He cleared his throat. "Hwan."

One of his men, a stout, capable-looking man, neared him with a salute. "Yes, General Joo-Doh?"

"Handle this commotion." he ordered, swift and pithy.

"Yes, sir."

Pardoning himself from the sea of bodies circling him, he treaded away in quick strides. Eyes lingered at his direction, tailed by murmurs and palavers, all skeptical and unsatisfied. He resisted the urge to sigh, knowing the mere act could raise disdain, and simply occupied his thoughts in their current mishap. The thought of Princess Yona witnessing their whole conspiracy was too unsettling.

Nearing the person he followed after, he called, "Iseul."

She halted and craned her neck to meet his gaze. She graced him a respectful nod and a polite simper. "What is it, General Joo-Doh?" her voice was equally sober, distant from the familiarity of her tone towards him. An act done for precaution— especially with scrutinizing spectators lurking about.

"Where were you all night?" he questioned, eyes penetrating and reproaching. "Lord Soo-Won was searching for you."

"Ah, so he seeks my presence? Frankly, I actually plan to see him now."

"Iseul."

His tone was firm and grave, almost like a command. There was a slight grunt in it as well as if he rebuked her. His sharp eyes, like bronze tipped arrows, pierced at her unaffected ones, never looking down at her but glaring at her in the same level. The lack of softness in his gaze reprieved her in a way— it always has. Neither a denigrating glower or a tender gaze, but a glare fit for acknowledging her in equal respect.

A soft sigh left her mouth, almost peeved. "There was a stumble on my way here and since no one is willing to take responsibility for it," came her reply, a message meant to be ciphered, as her eyes narrowed, a dark edge lingering in her glare. "I had to take care of it."

Joo-Doh settled his glance at her for a bit. "No," he said smoothly. "Our job is not over yet."

The look she graced him remained calm, unfazed, and acute. "I know."

About to leave, he folded his arms over his chest as he thoroughly inspected her pallor and the dark shadows underneath her eyes. For someone who had a skill for holding herself, her current disposition made her composure slacken. Maybe, most people would think of it as exhaustion but he did not mistake it for that kind of excuse. The reason was painfully obvious to him. After all, she did spend her time with _them_ and cared for them more than she could admit. "But before that, get some rest," he advised. "You'll need it."

Iseul blinked in response.

Before she could reply back, he finally left her behind with a flap of his mantle.

He caught the small ghost of a smile touching her lips and he had to hold back an amused grin of his own. The message was clear in her blue eyes—

 _Don't go soft on me now._

Then an inaudible whisper trailed behind him. "You should too."

* * *

"Your majesty."

Her greeting was followed with a bow, pithy and respectful but not too excessive or nonchalant.

Her eyes, a crystalline blue, glanced at the two figures before her. It lingered a bit on the shorter of the two. For a man that riveted least attention or suspicions to himself, he cast such a great shadow to those around him. His heavy robes of dark violets and blues seemed to fit him at the glare of the morning. He was like a shadow behind the candlelight, anonymous and vigilant and deceptive.

His visible eye acknowledged her presence with cool placidity. But then, the other one, beneath the fringe of dark hair, likely scrutinized and calculated her movements in privacy. She bobbed her head at his direction, her braid swaying, "Lord Kye-Sook."

A small simper greeted her features, welcoming but somewhat insincere. "Did I bother your conversation by any chance? Do pardon me, I should have come in a different time." Another bow. For a moment, she really disliked bowing.

"Ah, it is fine, Iseul," Soo-Won said in assurance, his signature disarming smile on his lips. The beaming facade was not necessary, though. "Our conversation ended awhile ago."

"What is your purpose here?" interrupted Kye-Sook.

"I was summoned by His Majesty."

He simply graced her a questioning brow, eyes skeptical not to her response but to her character.

The juvenile right next to him raised his hand, gesturing him. "I truly did wish to speak to my aide regarding a simple matter," he defended. "If it does not trouble you, I would like to discuss it just between us. We could converse about other affairs later on."

There was some doubt in his visage, but he complied nonetheless. Bowing at his waist, he said in a solemn tone, "As you wish."

The moment he left them alone, the smile in her lips twisted into an almost brazen sort of smirk. Highly amused. Undoubtingly mocking. Somewhat expected. "I am not sure if Lord Kye-Sook spoke of it to you yet," her voice used that casual blunt tone. "But even from a distance, you're obviously in such terrible shape."

Such audacity. Nonetheless, he chuckled. "Am I really?"

"Of course, you are," she spoke her thoughts out boldly, loudly. Something which a person of lower rank opt not to do. "Really now, you're just as terrible as I look. Though I would not blame you, the tempest last night might have even awoken countless others from their sleep."

He gave her a nod of acknowledgment as his pensive gaze lingered to the window, the morning bright yet somewhat dour and the people still yet it was eerily identical to that of the silence from the dead. "Quite a tempest it is."

The aide released a deep sigh. Her mind became resolute, concluding the pleasantries and amusing gabs to an early end. "You wish to discuss about my absence last night," she finally wheeled the direction of their conversation to its previous course. "I never questioned your sharpness so I know you have an inkling to what actions I have done."

For a moment, his lips quelled in silence.

Her blue eyes narrowed at his movements. There was a certain smooth, careful poise in his gait, in the way his fingers brushed the window pane with an air of coolheadedness. He drew his breath softly. "Lord Kye-Sook suspects you," he informed gravely yet his voice was mild, almost practiced perfectly. "Although General Joo-Doh defends you, he has his doubts."

She finally spoke, "And you know the truth."

His brown orbs met her blue ones. His glare was placid and still, but it held an equal amount of intensity just as much as hers. There was resolution in there— power, passion, a drive that could move mountains and make the sky bleed crimson. Those eyes befitting a king.

"I expected you'll let them escape."

"Yet you remained silent about the matter," her lips curled into a humorless smile while her hand brushed the hilt of her blade, lingering at the touch of cool wood. "You and I know clearly that they were not supposed to be involved. They were **not** supposed to die that night."

His gaze was wistful, almost lost in the depths of his dark reveries, but any fool could never notice the shrewd luster in his eyes. No words left his mouth but his silence had spoken in volumes.

And with his own voice, he broke the tortuously long quiescence between them. "Yet you unpredictably still remained here," he said softly. "Rather than having to let your life be spared with them."

Iseul still kept her smile in place, wavering, crumbling. "Then I would have been no better than a neglectful fool," she chuckled, dry and sardonic. "To have come so long beside you only to abandon everything that I have invested through all those years. I am not incompetent in keeping my word."

 _And I am always grateful to you for aiding me in almost reaching that end, Soo-Won._

"Your Majesty, you know I'll always be on your side. No matter what the cost stakes me, I will follow you," she declared, explicating her resolve. "You can order me to kill your enemies and I will protect you, but I will not raise my sword to them. I will stop them if they oppose you but I will never kill them."

This time she glared at him, her smile disappearing.

"Perhaps," he uttered softly like a hum. "But if I decide to kill them, will you stop me?"

It was her turn to be rendered speechless.

Her eyes pierced through his own like a spear thrusted against a wall. Determination empowered them, his will backing each front. She did not doubt his intentions and how he could steel himself and commit vile means for the sake of the country and for his cause. But behind it all, she knew there was some bit of resistance that betrayed his words. She never saw it manifest through him, but she understood he still _cared_ — allowed that small chip of weakness to scratch his armored heart.

Peculiarly, it was something they were both familiar and mutual of. An incurable bond they shared.

But then he could probably do such thing one day. Unrestrained. Remorseless. Blood on his hands.

Such fate was inevitable.

"Frankly, I cannot even answer that."

And she _hated_ her reply, loathed each word with passion, through a voice that held no qualms.

Speechless. Dumbstricken. Confused. This was she.

Incapable to give a proper reply. Incapable to give a simple answer.

Yes and no rocked to and fro, still. Perpetual in its sequence. Each sway made her cringe in guilt. She still stood in crossroads, leaning at the past, gazing straight at the future. The present was a collapsing bridge, impelling her to decide either to retreat back or to walk ahead, otherwise delaying meant a step closer to falling to her ruin.

I want to protect them. I want to protect him. I want to protect all of them.

Yet her conclusion sunk in three words: _I don't know._

Releasing a sigh, she padded towards him, her chin tipped and her face sedate. Her stride was brazen, disrespectful before the sight of a highborn, and at the same time solemn, like a soldier marching forth the battlefield. "I could beg for your forgiveness right now, Your Majesty," she admitted, unsheathing her sword before him. "But sadly I am not penitent of liberating them from your grasp."

He stood silently, undeterred and unfearing. His eyes were just as conniving and powerful. Just like that time before.

She raised her sword threateningly—

 _But it_ _'s still frustrating_ _. . ._

Stabbed it to the ground.

 _That I still doubt myself_ _. . ._

And knelt before him.

"But acting against your will is treason and a fitting punishment for me is death."

 _That I still kept making the same mistakes._

"Iseul," the firmness of his voice and the way he uttered her name felt like the consequences in her actions weighed upon her shoulders, just seizing the moment to further crush her into pressure. "I told you before to call me Soo-Won as you used too."

Much to her surprise, she raised her head in a quick flick only to see him crouching at her level with that familiar lightness in his eyes.

It took her a moment to register everything and it came to her like a slap in the face. Furrowing her brows, she frowned in vexation. "Idiot, here I am acting all noble and then you go fooling around and ignoring my sentence."

And after the gravity of that revelation, he had the gall to _chuckle_.

Iseul sighed in resignation. It was not like she wanted to die by his hands, but she still disliked the thought of betraying him, just as much as she hated betraying _them_ , and disregarding his trust for she still needed him for their goals and their plans and because she still deemed him as her friend before he became her master, regardless of how furtive and cryptic his true character is.

Death was noble and swift and terrible. An inviting embrace of surrender. A warrior's slumber and a fool's fitting demise.

Perhaps, it had been his smile. Or the intimacy in his eyes. But somewhere within his display of childishness and confidence, reality then chastised: _"Can a dead woman still protect the living?"_

And for that, she wallowed in shame. Though she would admit that she was too harsh on herself when she asked to be executed. Too reckless and arrogant to accept a doomed fate. Especially when she knew that pointless act could never erase her mistakes— her regrets.

As he rose from his position, he offered her a hand and a genial simper. But his gaze still held that solemness earlier ago. "Well, I couldn't just lose another friend as well."

She sighed once again— a sedate yet relieved one.

"Maybe," she shrugged as she clasped her hand on his, rising from the ground. "But, Your Majesty, I know you're fully aware that I am just your sword, a pawn left for your disposal. We're not equals. I live for a different purpose while you take a greater and more cumbersome path. If I must be killed then kill me. You of all people should know that hindrances in your way must be cut down."

She released her hand from his grasp and calmly glared at him. She did not ask for death this time but her words were both a rebuke and an advice.

Soo-Won looked at her in contemplation, conceiving the essence of her words. "Then do not be a hindrance and stand by me till the very end," he said swiftly, almost very kingly. Strangely, it brought back those memories of the days he sought for her strength and loyalty and offered her a bargain that twined her destiny with his— to serve and protect him. For their goals. And goals could be such dangerous things. "As my sword and my companion."

"Is that a command?"

"It is."

"Very well." Was her terse reply. A wry smile twisted her lips. "You know you're abusing your power over a person you should be wary about."

A faint simper quirked the corners of his mouth as his gaze, once again pensive and reminiscent and somewhat calculating, landed at the window. "You did tell me once," he said softly, his voice phlegmatic and placid. "That we did not have to trust each other but to use each other for our motives. I followed those words of yours, even now."

A snicker spilled from her lips. "And yet it's a wonder we still consider ourselves as friends."

* * *

"Is he doing well?"

A young man of twenty-five sat in front of her with texts sprawled on his lap and hands, his ashen eyes thoroughly studied and read with unquestionable concentration. This was Nam-Kyu, a diligent student training in the field of medicine and a trusted colleague of hers. "He'll be fine," he assured with a smile as he finally settled his gaze at her. "But he would need some rest for the mean time. It was fortunate that the stab wound he received was not too fatal and there was no sign of infection for the past two days. Though, that other wound from his back, that arrow wound—"

"Did you dispose of the arrow?"

"Of course, I buried it beneath the forest marshes in an unsuspicious hour of the day, just as you said. As to what I am saying, it was more serious than the other one since it was a much deeper wound. It would take time for that to heal properly," he informed casually, having the air of a professional healer whilst being just a student. "But the damage has already been taken care of. The only thing I concern about his health is that he is in deep stress. He is very troubled, you see. It's not very good for him."

"Ah, well, he's encountered something traumatic," Iseul reasoned as she crossed her arms. "To confront death is rather unsettling."

Nam-Kyu simpered at her direction. "For someone as daring as you to say such, confronting death is something you already considered a shadow behind your back."

Sitting comfortably, she arched her brow as she smiled back. "Well, Mister Healer, I don't plan to face death now when my heart still beats and I can still fight with a sword in my hand."

He shook his head, like an elder disapproving the notions of a toddler. "I will never truly understand the appeal of a sword. It is nothing more but an instrument of murder, a harbinger of violence. Just by holding that weapon you inch closer to your death."

"There is some truth in that," she voiced out her agreement with a languid shrug. "But worry not, I won't be one of your dying patients in the future. If I die, it would be because I've already passed my prime."

For a moment, she doubted her words.

He added, "And wed, too."

She cringed at the conception. There was nothing wrong with matrimony and settling peacefully with a family, but she had plans for her own path in life and the thought seemed so distant— a dream far from her reach. "Indeed," her voice was vapid, almost like a grimace. "When I actually become the most elegant lady in Kouka."

A chuckle rumbled from his throat. "I find that rather improbable," he cupped his chin with his thumb as he mused. "You're more of a soldier than a lady. No, you're hardly a lady. You should consider mending that. You might turn out like your brother, a man without a spouse by his side. It's a bit of a pity too."

She smirked at his rather derisive and frank thoughts about her brother's bachelorhood. "You should understand that matter is something I don't bother to regard, Nam-Kyu."

"Fine, fine. I won't pry any further. Your personal business is not my problem though you're still young so do try to reconsider it one day."

She resisted the urge to retort back. Her shoulders motioned a shrug. " _Sure_. Ah, and thank you for your cooperation," her voice was one best for negotiating, like a politician to a drawn member of a cabinet, rather than one that brimmed with genuine sincerity and gratitude. "And please, I need you to be silent about this small mischance to anyone."

Warily understanding her words, he bobbed his head in assurance. "Of course, and this is the most to what I can do to pay back my previous debts from you."

She graced him an appreciative smile in return. Though upon closer inspection, there was a certain social and telling charm to that simper.

Iseul understood in the beginning that one man could not stand alone, could not always fend for himself, and could not always expect a miracle to come crash before them to solve their plights. A wise man always needed allies by his side. And so, she had strings of trusted allies outside the palace, most were common people and her colleagues she kept in touch with. Technically, she did not manipulate them like objects, but she needed them just as much as they needed her. A favor for a favor. A lesson she learned from political affairs.

She had to make alliances when she was in dire need of aid in the future. After all, allies were a necessity.

She breathed in, relaxing at the comfort of her seat.

"So you lived after all, hm."

A wry smile twisted her lips. She snickered darkly. "I cheated death once again, I believe. That's one thing I happen to be good at."

She cannot deny the self-loathing in her tone.

Nam-Kyu sighed in peeve. "Really now, you speak of such things too lightly. It's not even funny. Coming to me in the middle of the night with a dying boy and telling me that your instructions may be the last— you actually made me think that it was our final meeting, you brat. Have you even seen a glimpse of yourself that night ago? You were a _wreck_. Are you even taking care of yourself? Don't you even try to consider that—"

With no ounce of restraint or affection, he railed on. Her lashes batted owlishly. She did not do anything else but gape at him.

"— If there's one thing you're good at, it's making people worry over you."

A sigh tumbled out of her mouth. Her hand brushed the strands off her face. "First of all, I am not a brat and you're not that old. You're only five years my senior. That doesn't make you one of the elderly," she reiterated. "Second, all right. I was a wreck, as you presume. But, _really_ , I get it you're upset. Though you didn't have to scold me . . . I'm aware that I've made a rather inappropriate choice of words—"

He snorted. " _Inane_ , mind changing that."

She cleared her throat. "— Inane. Fine, whatever," she muttered and then sighed once more. "It wasn't simple to just disregard it. That night . . . "

She cut her sentence short, ceasing the words that desperately wanted to spill from her lips.

Silence loomed over them.

Clearing her throat, she abruptly stood from her seat. "I'll just have a word with him."

He was hesitant to reply back but he was cognisant enough to perceive the impulse from her behavior, he seemingly decided to not pry any further and gave her a small smile instead with one corner of his mouth tugged. "All right."

But before she had the chance to leave.

"Iseul,"

She uttered, "Yes?"

His ashen eyes lowered in rumination, guilt and concern riddling his gaze. He drew a breath. "That boy, Min-Soo . . . he did not do anything wrong. He's a good kid. I'm not sure what you intend to do to him but don't further worsen his state. He's had too much as it is for such a young age."

"I know," her voice was grave as her head hung low. "It wasn't his fault to be involved but his circumstances led to this. He doesn't have a choice in the matter."

And like brilliant light flashed upon her face, he contradicted with firm resolve, "Everyone always has a choice, Iseul," he spoke in wise, measured tones. Each word was a blow to her chest. "It's something you can't take away regardless of what you do."

Iseul said nothing. Did nothing— not a gesture or a frown. Yet her torrent of emotions, gingerly screened with a mask of calm, made her wish she did.

"You have one as well," he reminded, subtly exposing her true intentions. "And you're well aware of it."

"He'll live," she announced. "I won't let him die."

She breathed in and finally left.

 _He's too much of a valuable asset._

* * *

Calm breaths. Steady breaths. He must be calm. He counted from one to ten. The palpitation of his heart decelerated.

He slowly dragged air through his nostrils.

And breathed out.

Nam-Kyu, the man who tended his wounds and provided him shelter, always told him to repeat this process whenever he felt fraught— whenever his heart raced and his mind tensed. Like the events that took place in the palace— the chase, the flurry of arrows, the _blood_. So much blood.

A small, shuddering sigh left his pale lips.

Once again, he counted from one to ten.

Min-Soo greatly needed respite.

His hand raked his hair from his face, brushing the rebellious strands from his perspiring forehead, and then it traveled to the column of his neck, down his shoulder, under the cotton fabric, and finally just at the white patch, bounded with films of bandages around his chest, was the arrow wound. His fingers carefully touched it, feeling a light prickling sensation on his skin. His shoulder jolted. He winced.

Returning his hand back atop his lap, he gazed at the small room around him, concrete walls and shut windows and then at the door. His ears perked at the sound of a soft knock and a creak. This galvanized him to push off his sheets and to shift, dragging his feet to the floor and twisting his body from its current position. Though this caused him to feel a surge of pain from his torso. He grasped his wound tightly as his jaws tauted.

A pair of blue eyes stared at him— more like, scrutinized him. "You should move less if I were you," his visitor advised as she neared him. He did not reply. She eyed the tray, holding the articles of an untouched meal, right next to his bed and frowned at the sight. "You shouldn't get your food cold as well."

His green eyes stoically followed her movements. He made no sound, aside from his ragged breathing and the rapid throbbing from his chest. His fingers flinched, grasping his torso firmly.

She sat at the chair nearest to him and allowed herself to sag on her seat, almost as if she was in the comfort of her abode. He cannot deny his envy at the sight of her. Her stature was unperturbed, the air around her was as cool as the evening breeze, and her confidence was unshaken. Though he did witness her break from frustration that night, she managed to collect herself again. Yet he still felt the pressure and stress in his veins, the wild thrumming of his heart, and the repercussions attained from nearly facing death.

He was no soldier from the battlefield and the very thought of that night still racked his nerves.

"Nam-Kyu says you are faring well."

His shoulders hunched and his eyes dropped to the swept floor. He cleared his throat and pushed himself back on his bed. He sighed.

The silent juvenile cleared his throat once again. This time, from parchedness. "You still haven't answered my question, Miss Iseul."

 _"_ _Why did you follow the man who killed the Emperor?"_

He would have preferred a reason why they conspired against Emperor Il, but she never answered that query and likely never will.

There were traces of hesitance in her sharp features, her eyes gray and her mouth in a thin line. It was her turn to sigh, but it was one done out of annoyance. "If it will stop your pestering, then it is simply because I believe in him," she admitted. "I believe he is capable in truly reforming back the former glory that Kouka lost from the hands of Emperor Il."

Convincing as it sounded, he knew there was something more behind those words of hers.

His fists clenched. "Must you resort to betrayal?"

"There was no other choice."

"But have all of you not thought of the kindness he showered upon you?" he questioned with fervency, defending his deceased master he once served and revered. "He may have not been a perfect ruler but he is a man with a good heart and soul. He treated you and Lord Soo-Won like his very own. Have you not considered that, Miss Iseul?"

"Do not judge everything yet when you are not fully aware of the truth."

The tone of her voice was severe and hostile like a harsh lash of a whip. There was darkness mingling in those ambiguous words and the way it rolled off her tongue was saturated with unmistakable _ire_.

Iseul closed her eyes, trying to appease her mind, and breathed out softly. Her hand brushed the hair from her face and from that moment he could not tell if it was a frustrated gesture or a sly rig. "I understand what you mean. Admittedly, I . . . truly did regret that Princess Yona and Hak had to be involved with this but it was not in his intentions to kill them in the beginning—" her words stopped there as if she realized she had spoken too much about a private matter. "But nothing could change the path that we have taken, Min-Soo."

His tongue was silent, but he could feel a retort lingering in his lips.

"The country is withering," her visage was grave and sullen, almost as if saying such knowledge still left an awful taste on her mouth. Her hand tightly held the stone pendant from her sword. "If you've only seen the horror that plagued the streets in the night. How the poor starved to death while the noblemen were too consumed with their greed to feed at least one mouth. The small revolts, the heinous crimes, the innocent blood shed, and all this because Emperor Il did not wish for ruckus to erupt. He did not do _anything_."

Transfixed, she croaked, "Because of him . . . "

He anticipated for a response, but nary a sound left her motionless lips.

Though he knew this time that her impassioned speech was bare with raw emotion.

"Did you hate Emperor Il?"

She stiffened.

" . . . no."

A pregnant silence crept. Lightly shaking her head and releasing the pendant in her hand, she straightened her back and brushed off the matter that seemed to haunt her mind. She sighed softly, returning back to her calm temperament. To the trained, secretive woman. "Min-Soo," she began with a drawl. "If I am wrong, would you tell me why would you still follow Emperor Il regardless of his errs?"

Min-Soo glared at her with conviction. "He was the man I respected."

She smiled sardonically. Her silence was a sign of acknowledgment though her smile diverged from her previous gesture.

When her smile finally dropped, he did not expect the next words that came out of her mouth.

"I want you to go to Fuuga."

The sudden swerve of subject caught him off guard.

His green eyes broadened.

"F-Fuuga?" he repeated in disbelief. "Why do you want me to go to Fuuga?"

Iseul eyed him warily, taking note of his aspects and thoughts. And probably she knew each one of them. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news but you are a dead man in Kuuto," she announced. "No one knows you live, except for me and Nam-Kyu. You can't stay here for long."

Out of impulse, he lurched forward, ignoring the protests of his wounds. "But my family―"

"Be rest assured, they are safe," her voice swiftly cut through his words. "And uninvolved."

Safe. Uninvolved. Those words meant everything to him.

It was _relief_.

He wanted to see them. He wanted to embrace his mother and kiss the foreheads of his siblings. He wanted to return back to his _home_.

Not here, inside these concrete walls and shut windows.

But . . . if it meant protecting them then he would choose this damned fate. Even if it meant he was among the dead to their eyes. Though he came to accept this life, he cannot help but clench his fists underneath his sleeves. He hoped the pain from his grip would suffice to numb the torment he had suffered from a cruel reality. They thought him dead. It was . . . _unbearable_.

He breathed in. He counted from one to ten. One, two, three . . . ten. Ten. _Ten_. Then he exhaled.

 _As long as you're all safe._

His eyes softened.

 _I'll find a way._

"I could see you care," she remarked with a mirthless smile― no, it wasn't mirthless but it looked almost _wistful_. "Don't you?"

He kept his mouth silent, still lost in his reveries and his memories of the past.

Unhindered, she continued on, "Once you leave for Fuuga," she paused after five agonizing seconds. "I'm certain you'll also meet Princess Yona and Hak―"

Her reply had rendered him surprised and curious. Her voice was certain. _They_ were alive and taking refuge in Fuuga.

"― And Nam-Kyu would be the one to escort you there."

He pursed his lips, still immersing himself from the matter and considering her initiative.

Although he fully grasped her words, Min-Soo still felt muddled. She was helping him— no, she was making sure he would _live_ by the end of the day. She could have just left him in the palace to die yet she still risked herself for him. She did not strike him as a noble and merciful being, especially when she wielded an instrument of killing. There was something more behind the insolent servant and the lamenting traitor, something more behind the seemingly selfless deeds she did for him.

Reluctant, he voiced out his loud, pestering thoughts, "If you serve Lord Soo-Won, why . . . why did you spare me as well?"

Silence.

Then a sigh.

Her blue orbs flicked at his direction and they _smoldered_.

"That is because I have a favor to ask you," she gazed at him fervently, eyes blazing in determination. "I want you to let me know if they are safe, Min-Soo."

"H-how do you expect me to . . . ?"

"Send me a letter in two weeks time after arriving there. Tell me everything that has happened to them and how they are living now," she enthused, sounding hopeful. More like the person he once knew. But all the emotion in her eyes dwindled when her head dipped and her voice faltered. Her bearings were painfully grim. "Though it's a heavy burden to bear, you cannot speak anything about that night to anyone or at least disclose your plight. If the truth is known in public, an uproar will arise and chaos will rupture the peace of this country. Do understand that there will be graver consequences if the truth is revealed."

Kouka . . . in chaos. What a gruesome thought.

He blanched and simply nodded his head in agreement. Even such an unjust crime would never be shed with the light of justice. "But shouldn't you be concerned about General Hak about that?"

"He won't tell anyone," she stated confidently. "He isn't foolish to put Princess Yona's life in more danger."

He was reluctant to respond back. "Then . . . " his voice droned on, still uncertain and addled. "When am I suppose to leave for Fuuga?"

Iseul graced him an enigmatic smile. And something about it felt so unnerving.

She chuckled softly. "A little patience, Min-Soo. I suggest you do your best to heal your wounds in about five days."

In his musings, he then pondered keenly why his departure was too soon, especially when his rehabilitation was yet to conclude and the security in Kuuto had become more precautional and vigilant after the events that took place in the palace. It was sudden and brash to leave in a short span of time. It could even draw suspicion. He was about to open his mouth to express his opposition and indicate the fault in her devised ploy when she spoke once again.

"You happen to be fortunate. On that day, there will be a summit with the five generals."

Min-Soo tried to grasp the gist behind her words at first, but it soon came to him in a shock. Rather than impulsive and haphazard, her plan happened to actually be brilliant. He finally realized how it truly was a golden opportunity. Recalling his past scrutinies as a palace servant, whenever men of power were welcomed within the gates of Kuuto the masses were abuzz and the city guards were to give them the highest regard in terms of protection and attention. It was the perfect distraction and she took advantage of it using that crucial piece of knowledge beforehand.

Perhaps, her cunning was something admirable to others, but he would be lying if he did not feel the alarm at the back of his mind. This proved that Han Iseul was far more devious and shrewd in mapping out a scheme.

And when opposed, she was likely the worst kind of adversary.

* * *

 **EDITED 2/4/16**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Akatsuki no Yona and the lyrics is from "Guilty" by Marina and the Diamonds.**


	4. 4

_And somehow you've got everybody fooled_

* * *

" **Curse** my **name** if it will appease the **tremble** of your **heart**."

* * *

Enmeshed within the frigid embrace of the pool, Soo-Won thought there was no other haven for him than to be submerged within the water.

The water was flushed crimson before the first lights of the dawn, pale flecks gleaming from the still surface. Without a second thought, the sight appealed him in a way. The vast motionlessness beneath him, the unwelcoming coldness clinging to his skin, and the absolute sense of solitude granted him a more sensible reason to further immerse himself within the water. Temptingly, drown himself within that stillness.

If not for the rosy coloring from the morning, he might have been lulled for the slightest bit— might have almost forgotten the weight of his sins upon his shoulders. Ah. Red. Red pooled beneath him, trickled from his damp locks and his skin and . . . the very thought evoked morbid images of spilt blood.

Soo-Won shuddered, a sigh misting from his lips. He waded aimlessly until he reached the middle of the pool, cupped the cold water upon his hands, and swashed it upon his face. Almost as if he had hoped it could wash the memory away. A gentle breeze wafted by and he suppressed the urge to quiver from the chill. He had already been numb from the cold, almost too numb for his body to bear. If Lord Kye-Sook caught him in such state especially seeing the sight of him dousing his wounded shoulder, he would definitely chide him about his recklessness and add if he had any intentions of—

"Do you plan to rid yourself from the cold, Your Majesty?"

His brown eyes glanced at the large bulks of rock, structurally girdled around the pool, and folded his arms to his chest. A slight smile curved his mouth but it was mirthless. "Iseul," he said softly, his head tilting. "You almost sound like Lord Kye-Sook."

"Oh?" her voice echoed behind the man-made, well-constructed bouldery. "Lord Kye-Sook would find that little remark of yours insulting, don't you think? I find my tone rather insouciant than scolding. Then again, has the water gotten into your ears? I don't sound like him at all."

Her somewhat teasing comment perked his lips, a chuckle rumbling on his throat. He wandered a bit, his fingers faintly gliding at the watery surface. He lifted his hand, careful to not further worsen the wound on his shoulder from the action, and scrutinized the streaks of water run down his wrist and dribble from the sodden hem of his bathing garb.

"Perhaps," he agreed, half in deep reverie, half in slight blithe nonchalance. "Maybe, I have stayed too long in the water after all."

Iseul had the audacity to snort at him. "You've been there for nearly half an hour."

"Ah."

Soo-Won heard her sigh, prolonged and weary. He could already imagine her shake her head from his obliviousness with that disappointed frown upon her lips and that all too-familiar scrunch of her brows.

"Do please get yourself out of the pool, Your Majesty," she suggested, but albeit her words she had every intention dragging him out of the water, which he assumed if he delayed a bit more after thirty seconds. "You are still needed later for the meeting with the five tribe generals. In top shape, as well."

Of course, he knew the importance of what that summit meant. To discuss urgent matters for the sake of the country, yet a cleverly strategic maneuver to seize the throne— to be crowned the Emperor, in a faster pace. And to finally attain his goal, to strengthen and reestablish the former glory of Kouka, something which his uncle failed at.

A curt sigh left his lips at the thought, but shrugged anyway as he waded back compliantly, his feet finding the stone steps. Climbing out of the pool, he halted for a moment to wrest his hair and then proceeded cladding himself with a dry, thicker robe. He reluctantly avoided gazing above the sky - the dawn - and let his eyes linger a little longer to the puddle beneath his bare feet.

He finally thought of approaching the hidden spot of his aide, since he found her absent presence a bit baffling. In normal cases, she should have already been standing before him, waiting patiently while he dresses himself. His hand touched the jutting stone wall as he peered only to catch the sight of her ridiculously sprawled upon the floor with her arms crossed and her expression sedate. He blinked.

He crouched. "Iseul?"

"Yes?"

"You shouldn't be lying down on the ground like that."

One corner of her mouth was tugged down, slightly irked. "My actions should be least of your worries."

He raised a brow at her, scrutinizing her intently, scouring for a flaw to fence back for retaliation— then again, there had been plenty. And she was so open to admit it before him. Curious, he neared her instead and cast aside the retort. He whispered, "What are you doing, Iseul?"

She deadpanned, "Sight-seeing."

Soo-Won blinked again.

"Sight-seeing?"

She nodded and then flicked back her glance at him, savoring the nonplussed look on his face. "You were taking longer than usual and I, for one, do not fancy watching draperies all day— even more so, if you bathe."

He considered her reasoning. "Is it necessary to lie on the ground?"

"I like the view this way."

Even more confusion.

Before he could utter a question as to what in the world snared her intrigue so much, he looked at her again and followed the gaze on her crystalline blue orbs. He whipped his head upwards and paused in surprise. His eyes softened for the slightest moment, almost wavering from the sight. He drew a breath.

Ah.

 _Was that it?_ , he thought pensively.

He sighed softly. His arms, tense and numb, folded on the top of his lap, relaxing slightly from the act. Then, he composed himself and decided to graciously perch on the ground right next to her, admiring and reminiscing the morn sky. If he could recall, her previous expression bared faint traces of weakness . . . melancholy, as if awing the scenery of the morning had been a crime. He could almost feel a rueful smile curl his lips. He had not been alone.

With widened eyes, she finally returned her gaze back at him, taking note of his shift in behavior and his actions. "Your Majesty?" she graced another look of what appeared to be shock and concern. She hastily rose into a sitting position and closed herself near him. Her hand brushed his shoulder. "The wound . . . You're _bleeding_. I told you before to be careful with—"

He interrupted abruptly, eyes never leaving the beautiful crimson canvas above. "The blush of dawn is beautiful, isn't it?"

Iseul appeared like she was about to protest - most likely, about his indifference about his current condition - but apparently she dismissed it, quelling her mouth in silence. Mulling, she glared at him and then back to the sky, her drear awhile ago almost dissipating. "It always has." She muttered under her breath, loud enough for his ears to hear alone.

Sighing, she tore the hem of her sleeve with the aid of the small dagger from her belt and she lifted her hand. "Your shoulder." Her tone was grave and commanding. Obviously, it was not a request but he was well aware that it was still an act that asked for his permission beneath the thick layers of what appeared to be a demand. Nonetheless, he complied without protest, shrugging off the heavy fabric from his shoulder and allowing her to handle his slip-up.

He trained his eyes on her, on the way she bandaged him. Inclined to trained habits, her face was still, like the untouched surface of water. Pleasing as it was, it was cold yet . . . strangely, beneath it was turbulence, confliction. He felt it from the quiver of her breath and each quiver was from his doing. _I wonder_ , he mused silently to himself. _Did you ever hate me, Iseul?_

The pads of her fingers were callous and scarred, but her hands were gentle. Very gentle. Finally finishing her ministrations, she cleared her throat. "We have to let the healer stop the bleeding. Please, let us leave immediately, Your Majesty."

And so they did.

* * *

Just as Iseul predicted, her master at the moment was heatedly being censured by the healer for reopening his serious wound. Receiving a sermon from Kye-Sook for his negligence was inevitable the moment she rushed him back to his quarters.

Thus far, she was patiently waiting inside his chamber, fully immersed in her mulling rather than delighting herself with the amusing spectacle that he has gotten himself into. She considered the thought that she might be dwelling too much of the matter but it was difficult to ebb the thoughts away. Her blue eyes landed on him, observing him sheepishly mutter apologies to the healer, who continuously railed on to no end. His lips broke into that diffident grin and his eyes - his _damn_ eyes - gave the impression he wanted them to see, derisory and foolish and—

Nothing compared to the intense gaze he graced her.

Indeed. She could never doubt or simply disregard that look from his eyes. No matter how much gall she had to put up to create a nonchalant front.

She breathed sharply.

 _You're overthinking, Iseul. Overthinking._

The moment he had noticed her actions, she then realized that she still kept staring at him, which she still did not avert away. She remained to stare until she had worn her own tedium or inner bedlam. He rendered her a curious glance and then finally a small, strained smile. She did not bother returning the gesture with a silly smile of her own or an amused brow. Balking her intentions, she finally concluded everything with a sigh.

There were other matters to think about. Other matters to put into consideration. And none of them involved his intense gazes.

So, yes. She was just overthinking.

Her hand wandered to the hilt of her sword, fingering its sleek contours and edges. It had been a deed done out of habit whenever she sought for reprieve― knowing that she was aware her sword was right beside her, clinging to her waist, pushing its weight upon her hip. She dragged in the air, abating the latent tension of her mind. _Careful_ , she reminded herself. Her temperament had nearly slipped from his eyes back then, making her resort to a faux-pas, but she knew― oh, she definitely knew Soo-Won permeated _through_ her.

And she resolved herself to further strengthen her fortitude for she felt the skeptical eyes of Kye-Sook on her a minute ago.

Iseul allowed herself to simper. "A word of advice," she drawled calmly, which he regarded with a questioning brow. "Do avoid concerning yourself for minuscule matters. It does little in providing solutions. Either way, he'll be fine and it is quite natural for him getting into some sort of skirmish. You'll end up like that healer. Or worse, like General Joo-Doh." _Then again, there is always me._

His eyes remained passive but she could fairly see his acknowledgment of her words and the slightest trace of amusement from the mention of her brother. And perhaps, he could notice the nuances she added. With his limbs intertwined underneath his sleeves, he nodded and finally spoke, "I am well aware," he then sighed, shaking his head warily after. "Yet his fault will not be left unturned. Of all times, he places himself in such plight."

She snickered in response. "I believe you should save that for him," she said. "I'm better off not hearing your rebuke myself."

"Regardless of the matter, I cannot help but be envious of your calm disposition," he spoke, eyeing her under his vigilance. "I admit that I am troubled," his voice was measured and subtle yet hardly convincing. He was always good in the way he handled his words but never his skepticisms. But it was right of him to be wary, to be deceiving, to be _this_ unnerving. These were highly essential things for survival in the court.

Alas, nothing but a plume of smoke against her.

"Of the matter that involved General Hak and Princess Yona."

Iseul did no such thing as to flinch at the sound of their names, maintaining an illusion of propriety. "I suppose I could understand," she nodded sympathetically as she crossed her arms. "The news is rather depressing to think about."

His calculated disposition was yet to be breached and his patience was still abundant. He began conspiringly, "You were close to them in your youth, no?" his words were best for consoling but his tone was intended for the purpose of demand and validation. "Surely, you must feel concerned."

Her smile was growing rather brittle. "Of course, I would."

"I cannot help but wonder what means you use to abate it," he stated, his violet eyes assuming, invading— _testing_ her. "Do you feel a sense of certainty for their safety, perhaps?"

Her jaw tensed and for a fraction she narrowed her eyes, but she schooled her face into a confident one. "Frankly, I admit that I have no means nor certainty," she confirmed. "Although I hope for good tidings of their safety, I cannot let my emotions impede my duties as a servant for matters where I have no power to even bring to conclusion."

She grudgingly admitted that it took more than mere fronts to leave a dent to this man.

"Lord Kye-Sook, Iseul," Soo-Won intervened, looking at both of them in concern. "Is there something the matter?"

Kye-Sook cleared his throat. "Nothing at all, Lord Soo-Won."

"We were indulging in harmless small talk," she finally replied, gracing a half-hearted shrug. "That is after you abruptly interrupted us."

Though, that conversation was anything but harmless.

Iseul tamped the caprice to sigh.

 _Lord Kye-Sook, do not become my opposition._

Because he was not.

And she would not hesitate fighting back.

* * *

"Mister Nam-Kyu?"

He offered him a smile. "Yes, Min-Soo?"

Min-Soo held the teacup in his hands, his gaze dropping at the bottom of the cup. He had been silent lately and the moment he dared to open his mouth he lost all his confidence in the subject he wanted to broach— specifically, Han Iseul. It was pestering him for the past five days ever since their last encounter and he desperately wanted to know who this woman truly is— her nature, her intentions, her _ends_ in all of this.

Yet instead of inquiring her background, he bit his tongue and opened a room for small talk. "How long have you been studying in the medical field?"

Taking note of his empty cup, Nam-Kyu gingerly took hold of the teapot and poured the steaming brew to his teacup. "Four and a half for now."

After exchanging a word of thanks, he nods in acknowledgment, contemplating his reply. "Then are you perchance being guided by a master physician?" he asked in pique. "The texts you always read seem complex and advanced, eclipsing the average medicine books I've seen in the palace library."

His brows raised. "I must admit you're a keen one," he remarked, an impressed simper curling his lips, and then drank from his cup. "It is true that I am in the possession of highly technical texts. However I am not particularly under the guidance of a master physician, but by the Gyeon family."

Min-Soo abruptly wavered drinking his tea from his words, particularly from the name he had uttered. Gulping, he was about to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand when he was given a napkin, which he gratefully accepted. He cleared his throat. "Gyeon? Correct me if I am mistaken but are you referring to the noble family, Gyeon of the Fire Tribe, a close kindred to General Soo-Jin?"

"You are definitely unmistaken about them being an undisputed house of nobility from the Fire Tribe," he confirmed in assurance, his tone placid and oddly pleased. "You see, the Gyeon are known as a family of expert healers and physicians. Likely, most of their kin would take the medical field, but there are rare occasions that they would train people outside their family as apprentices. Of course, with the right resources."

He asked curiously, "Ah, then how are you able to be an apprentice?"

Reminiscing, Nam-Kyu drew his breath. "To be honest with you, I didn't really belong to a noble family and my father was just a seafarer. We couldn't afford much for my education so I studied by myself, even if I had to scrape for old books from the waste yards. I wanted to be a physician but the ambition seemed far out of reach for a commoner," he paused for a moment. "But when I met Iseul, I never knew I would be given a chance to—"

His words were growing deaf upon his ears and he could not help mull deeply of the matter. Her resources were not only limited in the Sky Tribe, proving his theories partially wrong, but she also had connections to the _Fire_ Tribe. The notion was rather amiss. Iseul was a full-fledged woman of the Sky Tribe. Her very articulation, her mannerisms, and her countenance had no sliver of semblance to the Fire Tribe. In addition, Kouka's five tribes did not exactly have a harmonious relationship with one another - saddening as it is to admit - under Emperor Il's reign.

And having affiliations to the nobility in the Fire Tribe merely added fuel to his skepticisms. _I have to know more. I have to_ _—_

His voice abruptly cut through his sentimental tattle. "How is she related to the Gyeon family?"

His ashen eyes broadened at his tone but soon lowered down to his teacup, and then he finally cleared his throat, almost as if he had shook off some perturbing musings of his own. "She claimed to have acquaintances," he stated after releasing a sigh. "At first, I found her words dubious, but she truly did have connections to the Gyeon family. Evidence to that is my secure position as one of their apprentices."

His fingers twitched. His muscles tauted at his response. Acquaintances in the Fire Tribe. Could she also have these so-called _acquaintances_ in other tribes? He began to ruminate of the matter all over again in his silence.

"— _we_ couldn't _afford much for my education_ _—_ _"_

Think. Think harder.

" _But when I met_ Iseul _, I never knew I would be given a_ chance _to_ _—_ _"_

Promises of gifts. Second chances. These dubious connections.

 _"That is because I have a_ favor _to ask you_ _._ _"_

Favors. Lies ribboned around enticing favors.

" _I want you to let me know if they are safe, Min-Soo."_

His green eyes widened in realization.

His rendezvous with Princess Yona and General Hak was not merely for the sake of his protection. She risked her life intentionally, patiently waiting for the right opportunity for him to return back the favor which he would willingly oblige due to his grateful nature, and selected him specifically because . . . he was closest to them making him least suspicious, perhaps? Or was it pure coincidence that he was chosen? Nonetheless, there had to be something more than that. A certain purpose why he was going to be sent to the Wind Tribe—

His breath hitched.

 _The Wind Tribe._

And it all finally made sense.

Ire festering his spirit, Min-Soo roughly struck his fists to the table, causing the china to clatter. "Though," he said in a grudgingly moderated voice. "Do you not doubt her?"

Flummoxed at his sudden outburst and question, Nam-Kyu cleared his throat out of discomfit. "Iseul is an old companion of mine," he could have questioned his change in behavior but apparently disregarded it. "Why would you raise the question?"

Flaring fervently, his green eyes glared at him. "The situation I am in is grave as it is and yet you would stake your life, your _ambitions_ , for her request," he ceased his gushing in an instant, reminding himself to pitch his voice a few notches lower. Mollifying his temper at bay, he sighed softly. This was very unorthodox of him. "Do you not think that she . . . "

His brow curved inquisitively. "That she is using me behind my back? Of course, I am aware of this plight you are in and have come to accept her request no less, no matter how endangering it is," he told him gravely, which aroused another set of questions in his mind. "Though I may at times succumb to my suspicions of her, I am still grateful. If not for her aid, I may have not even reached this far. I _do_ doubt her character, Min-Soo, but I trust my life in her hands, that I can assure you."

He never expected anything less from this man. After all, Nam-Kyu was too smart to be a fool for beguiling words and confessedly was very fortunate. He could not help but envy him— his professionalism, his intellect, his ignorance.

Because Han Iseul expected _him_ to spy the Wind Tribe for her own convenience.

* * *

Without reservation, Mundok held a strong antipathy to this summit. He has grown weary of all this talk of politics and strife and was in dire need to breathe in the fresh air. For the gods' sakes, he was a _veteran_ , finally relieved of all his commitments to the country, and he was in no obligation to take responsibility in voting for the acting chief nor is he formally supposed to attend in this summit to begin with. This was the duty assigned to Hak, the Wind Tribe General.

Merely staying in this room racked his nerves, rekindling his past dislike for this insufferable, stifling setting he once harbored in his youth. The men with him, too, were unbearable. He may have fought along side them in the past and deemed them colleagues in the battlefield, but the discordance and hesitation they privately each bore reeked from the very breaths of their mouths that spoke of unification.

General Joon-Gi was, in nature, a neutral man thus made neutral decisions, always adrift in his choices. Never bold but simply vigilant of other affairs and only imposed action when needed. On the other hand, contrasting his behavior was General Geun-Tae, who complied reluctantly with a scoff. General Joo-Doh was reticent but his eyes told otherwise. There was suspicion in each of his glares, sizing each man like his potential adversary. Then there was General Soo-Jin with his approval, complying in high hopes to gain favor. A smarmy character at best. Dubious, even

Had the previous camaraderie and dignity been lost in time? He shook disappointingly at the thought. Well, it did not matter now. He was no longer a general. No longer a man of power. No longer the ignorant, roughshod man he once was. He was old and weary. So jaded of this immature dissension. Of this depressing news about the Emperor. Of these rumors about Princess Yona and Hak. Of this day, honestly.

He was so, so tired.

The moment he abruptly excused himself, riveting attention and suspicion to himself, it was least of his expectations to be _threatened_.

"For the sake of Capital Fuuga's people."

Each word was a dagger to his chest. Provoking him. Making him draw his blade.

If he was anything like the man he once was, he would make that person regret his words for threatening his _home_. Though, Mundok knew better than to humor those observing eyes, expecting a spectacle of treason, or even dare show his disrespect to royalty. Time had testified his actions and experience taught him the lesson of circumspection. That politics was no different from a battlefield.

He was pinned by the glares of cynics, who were equipped with words as weapons and influence as armor, but within the center of that brewing storm were the particular eyes of a boy that once diffused warmth and innocence. That boy had already matured into a man, standing saliently with his chin held high amidst this throng of illustrious men. And perhaps in a different situation, Mundok would have crowed of his growth and his charisma and his resolution, like a proud grandfather to his grandson.

Yet when had this boy ever had such cold eyes? When did he ever had that dangerous tone in his voice? Soo-Won had always been a bright child but never did he consider that he would use his cunning for profligate means— endangering his home, his Wind Tribe. He then pondered if he was pressured in the dark world of politics or it had been the weight of his current condition, carrying himself with his extravagant robes and majesty and soon-to-be crown. He considered _anything_ — anything he may condone to think that this boy was not his foe.

He glanced at him again from the corner of his eye and ironed his will to not look back again, fearing disappointment. He sighed inaudibly, shoulders sagging to his sides.

His head dipped glumly. "That's a shame, Lord Soo-Won," he said. "As I do with Hak, I have always thought of you as my own grandson."

He was about to take another step, finalizing his musings of him. That the moment he set foot outside this boy was to be—

"I thank you," his words echoed to his ears. "For the sentiment."

It was as if they were a substitute for an apology. And it _pierced_ through him.

Mundok halted.

He considered his words.

He held back and understood everything.

— _an enemy_.

He nodded. "I bid you a good day, Lord Soo-Won."

And finally walked out of the room, marching ahead with a question in his mind.

 _How much has he changed since then?_

* * *

 **A/N: I was a bit depressed when I made this so . . . I hope I depressed you too? Just kidding. Okay, let me start off with a thank you to all those supportive people (although most are very silent readers) who added this story of mine to their favorites, alerts, and to those who took the time to review. I appreciate it a lot! Yes, it's been long, but well, life and college got in the way . . . Anyhow, I've been silent lately and I'm not exactly communicating with my readers through author's notes anymore so for the reason behind** _ **this**_ **author's note is . . .**

 **First, I've somewhat rewritten a few scenes from previous chapters. I've added some important details while I've removed some others soooo yeah, sorry haha. Though if you don't want to re-read it again, it's fine too but a little skimming won't hurt (especially chapter 3). Though, I would like to remind everyone that chapter 2 has not been edited as of yet, but the edited version will come eventually with the next update.**

 **Second, since I won't be making any author's notes after this chapter, I'm warning people that this** _ **will**_ **be somewhat dark and gritty since this is the traitor's point of view, which will delve to the backstabbing world of politics, controversy and etcetera, etcetera. Heck, you might have felt it already. I know AnY isn't supposed to be any of that but I appreciate it if you're still willing to read it anyway. And hey, there's still some bit of humor here to lighten up the story.**

 **Third, I'm going to say this straight out (but oh my gosh I'm going to lose attentive readers at this point haha) that the romance is** _ **subtle**_ **. . . Yes, subtle and slow. As you can see in my profile, I didn't exactly give any indication to whom Iseul will end up with . It's not like I wanted to keep it a secret or anything, but it's just the** _ **plot**_ **and its complexity** **. As the story progresses, you'll know who eventually, but let me just remind you that things won't be as dainty and lovable as they seem** **—** **oh goodness, I just said a spoiler hahahaha.**

 **Lastly, this is a bit filler-ish (which I won't apologize for) but there are these important details that you should be aware about in this particular chapter and I seriously can't bunch the events here to the other one. But, my last reminder for this is that everything is going downhill at this point. As a fair warning, there will be lots of angst for the following chapters. It will be fairly short but I hope you bear with it (** _ **goodness**_ **, the manga was a tearjerker in the first parts).**

 **There. That was a very long author's note . . . umm, oops haha. Thanks anyway for reading it up until this point and I hope you enjoyed the latest update! Also, I'm open for any questions and criticisms!**

 **Aaaaand a special thanks to _imafangirlforever_ for giving me her opinion in helping me in a particular scene!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Akatsuki no Yona and the lyrics is from "Everybody's Fool" by Evanescence.**


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